


Country boy (I love you)

by dreadlockholiday



Series: Dready's Kink Jar [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Begging, Blow Jobs, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Dirty Talk, Farmer Bucky Barnes, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Nomad Steve Rogers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rutting, Semi-Public Sex, Shrunkyclunks, Size Kink, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Stucky - Freeform, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23159308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadlockholiday/pseuds/dreadlockholiday
Summary: Steve is on the run after the fight with Tony. He finds refuge on a farm, where his life gets unexpectedly tangled with that of a young, handsome boy
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Dready's Kink Jar [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664776
Comments: 16
Kudos: 235





	Country boy (I love you)

There's muffled chatter coming from somewhere around, seemingly kept quiet and reserved on purpose.

It's irritating. He hates whispered and shushed voices, even more now that he can't recognise them.

As he slowly opens his eyes, slightly blinded by the bright daylight seeping through the window, he realises that he can't recognise the place he is in either.

He's laying on a single bed, in a small room. The furniture looks old, the wood dark and ruined with time.

There are pictures on the walls.

Family. A few babies; a child and a dog; a boy and a girl on a horse; a man and a woman with what looks like their daughter.

Steve jolts up off the bed in panic, only to have a sharp pain claw at his stomach and legs, causing him to crumble on the floor with a choked yelp.

He remembers a fight. It all happened in a blur, one guy against a dozen men. He's usually able to take them down easily, but this time something went wrong.

His mind tries to put some pieces together, but it all seems like a dream, inconstant and split into smithereens. He remembers being stabbed and shot, falling from a window and hearing different bones in his body crack. He remembers running, going as fast and as far as he could for days, how many, he doesn't know.

He recalls running away from a city, before getting lost in the middle of nowhere. He followed his feet, and they took him through woods and fields. He was hungry, thirsty, bleeding.

The last thing he remembers is crying, but it wasn't pain. It was relief, happiness. Before his eyes had been a farm. A small house, a few barns, a stable and a chained dog barking.

He was on the verge of passing out, but he gathered what little strength had remained in his body. His vision was blurry and the sky seemed to change colour, white spots popping before his eyes. With gritted teeth and harsh breaths, he dragged himself and limped towards the water well.

It was like a miracle, and water had never tasted so good on his tongue. He drank in big gulps, almost choking on it and spilling everywhere with shaky hands.

He doused his thirst with the fervour of a dying man, gripping the edge of the well so tight he felt his nails scrape and crack in an attempt to hold his weight up; he reached for more water, but his body didn't seem to respond.

And then, it was all black.

The sound he makes as he falls must be heard by someone, because right after, the door opens with a creak.

"Oh dear Lord!" A woman scrambles towards Steve's helpless figure on the floor. "Are you okay? Come, get on the bed!"

Steve winces in pain as she tries to help him up, but Steve sure isn't small and light, not anymore, and his legs don't really seem to cooperate at the moment.

"George!" She calls over her shoulder when the best she can do is put Steve into a sitting position, leaning him against the bed. "Come up, I need help!"

"Where am I?" Steve's voice is hoarse from lack of use, his throat stinging terribly. He needs water.

"Oh dear... you were passed out by the well..."

"What happened?" A man appears at the doorstep, then immediately rushes over and they both lift him, laying him upon the bed.

Steve groans as an acute pain slices through his middle, his head still feeling dizzy and foggy.

"Who are you...?"

"I'm Winnifred..." The woman says as she checks the bandages on his stomach. "This is my husband George. Lay down, dear, you're not looking good... are you hungry?"

Steve knows better than to let himself trust these people. They probably don't and won't recognize him now, with the beard and long hair, but he shouldn't risk being reported to the government. It would be the end.

But Steve doesn't really have anywhere else to go right now, he needs help and rest, he needs to recover, and maybe it's a mistake and he knows it, but this time he can't really bring himself to decline and leave.

He nods. "Um... I haven't eaten anything in a few days."

Steve hates being like this, hates asking for help and giving in. It's always been like that, since he was a scrawny, sickly boy, he has always fought his battles alone.

The woman– Winnifred gives him a concerned look before nodding and leaving the room. George remains by his side, a hard look on his face, arms crossed over his chest.

"I'd ask you what happened son..." The man lets his eyes travel over the bandages and cuts on Steve's body.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

Being attacked by a SWAT team is a story he'll tell his children and grandchildren, but not this man.

George gives a stern nod, his body language on the defensive, but Steve sees his expression soften a bit.

"Should we call someone? Do you have anyone out there?

Steve swallows and shakes his head. Technically, he has Natasha and Sam, but he can't put their safety at risk.

He's in this alone.

"No I... it's just me."

Winnifred comes back with a trail full of food and drinks in her hands, setting it on the bedside table next to Steve.

"Here you are." A compassionate look moulds her features as she sets a bowl of soup in his hands, gently and lovingly like a mother does, like  _ his _ mother used to do. "Eat and then take some rest uh..."

"Robert..." He clears his throat of any traces of insecurity. "Call me Robert."

"Alright then, Robert..." George's suspicious glare makes his skin slightly prickle, as if he can read the lies he's spitting in their faces. He tries to focus on Winnifred's sweet words "Take some rest and sleep dear. You can stay here as much as you need."

"Thank you. It's really kind of you."

Winnifred beams softly and tucks his covers better, before she awkwardly backs out of the room with her husband.

As the door closes, Steve lets out a breath of relief, feeling a thousand pounds weight lift off his chest.

He'd like to think of a way to leave as soon as possible, to escape this place, contact Natasha and Sam and disappear from the radar again. There still might be agents looking for him. He needs a plan soon, now, yesterday. This shouldn't have happened.

He'd like to think about a way to go back and get safe, but his stomach reminds him that there are more urgent matters.

He's so tired, worn out and beaten. He focuses on eating his food quickly before sleep makes his eyelids heavy and creeps over him again.

❉ ❉ ❉

When he wakes up, the light outside is still bright. He wonders how long he slept– a few hours? A few days? In any case, he feels definitely better. If it wasn't for the serum in his body, he probably wouldn't be able to stand on his own feet yet. Hell, he probably wouldn't even be alive. 

Instead, his legs are working perfectly fine and the wounds on his skin are gone for the most part.

A set of folded clothes lies on the covers next to him. For a second he's afraid of being naked under the sheets. The idea of some strangers undressing him is by no means reassuring, but thankfully that's not the case. Somehow his own pants are still preserved on him, even though a bit dirty, but it's alright.

After getting dressed, Steve thinks for a moment if he should wait in the room for someone to come back, or if it would be too bold and impolite to get out on his own and tell his goodbyes before leaving.

The latter option prevails in the end, and in no time, he's walking down the wooden stairs of the house, guided by the voices that come from somewhere around.

He can hear Winnifred talking to someone from the kitchen, their tone soft and cheery.

The woman notices him first as he stands awkwardly at the doorway.

"Good morning, Robert! Come in, please." She smiles before she walks up to him, puts a hand on his arm and prompts him to sit at the table, "You're just on time for breakfast."

"Uh, actually I..."

"Do you prefer coffee or tea?" She looks at him over her shoulder as she takes another mug from the kitchen cabinet.

Steve looks for a moment at her and then at the guy sitting on the opposite side of the table, facing him.

A young, brown haired guy who's staring at him with an astonished expression, mouth slightly ajar and big, blue eyes wide open.

Steve should really go. Leave as soon as possible and get himself out of trouble. He has to go and stop being a burden to this small, happy family in the middle of the countryside.

"Uh... coffee would be great." Steve manages, leaving all of his rationality aside, never taking his eyes off the boy in front of him.

He lets his gaze trail over his beautiful, sweet features. The way his rosy lips look so appetising and edible as he swipes his tongue over them. His cheeks are flushed red, Steve notices, and he wonders if there's ever been something as pretty as him in this world.

Winnifred's voice brings him abruptly out of his daze. "James, introduce yourself!" She whisper-yells at the boy and swats his nape.

It's not meant for Steve to hear, obviously, but his enhanced hearing manages to grasp onto her words, and he fights back a smile of his own when he sees the handsome guy flinch and stutter a bit, blush high on his cheeks.

"Uh... um I–" He stands and sticks a small, calloused hand out to Steve. "I'm Bucky, I go by Bucky."

His voice is smooth and silky, gently turning raspy over the edges, and the way his words fall from his lips make Steve inhale a deep, grounding breath.

He must be in his mid-twenties, Steve thinks, but there's a certain juvenile aura around him that makes him look way younger, fresh in his sweet, teen years.

Steve blames it on the light in his eyes.

"Robert." He smiles and shakes the other's cold hand in his. "It's nice to meet you."

Bucky nods and gives a half-innocent, half-cocky smile in response, before he goes back to silently eat his breakfast.

There's small talk throughout the meal, mainly Winnifred speaking and asking Steve cautious questions or talking about their family.

Steve finds out that he's somewhere in Illinois, hosted by the Barnes family. He learns that the room he spent the night in is Rebecca's, their younger child, who's been living in Chicago for a couple of years now attending college. Winnifred tells many other stories and anecdotes, and Steve easily concludes that she's a talker.

Something her handsome son isn't at all.

Bucky remains quiet all the time, doing nothing more than shooting quick, scrutinising glances and occasionally smiling at Steve, making the supersoldier squirm in his seat.

Something about the way Bucky is looking at him gives Steve the suspicion that he can see through him, that he can read past his facade and uncover all his secrets.

Steve pushes away the reoccurring thought. It's just paranoia, he convinces himself.

He concentrates on giving his answers to Winnifred's questions, making sure he doesn't betray his made up character all the while.

"You know, Robert..." Bucky interjects after Winifred leaves the room, "It's weird... you look very familiar..."

Bucky leans forward, crossing his arms on the table and piercing his gaze to Steve's eyes. "Have we met before?"

His words come out almost as a purr, tantalisingly slow. Steve can hear the uncertainty in his voice, like he's afraid of making the wrong assumption.

He still gulps after hearing those words. If Bucky managed to blow his cover, then he needs to run. As soon as possible, just run away from here.

"Um no... I'm pretty sure we haven't." He says in the end, barely keeping his cool.

Bucky just shrugs with a hum like it's no big deal before he's suddenly on his feet, and fuck, Steve would've never thought that a person could scare him and arouse him this much all at the same time.

Because now Steve can clearly see the beige breeches Bucky is wearing, so tight around his long, meaty legs, disappearing under his black riding boots just below the knees. His crotch is perfectly visible in this clothing, not leaving much for imagination.

As he turns around to rinse the dishes in the sink, Steve has to fight back a groan from escaping his throat.

He's seen and been with a fair number of men before, but damn, Bucky has an ass that no other can compare.

So tight in those skinny pants, hugged perfectly by the fabric and morphed into a taut, little bum.

Steve knows he should stop staring, especially when he feels his own trousers get uncomfortably tight, but he can't help it.

He starts wondering what else all those clothes hide beneath, if Bucky is perfect when naked like he is now. His mind wanders to scenarios where he can strip that toned body, touch his skin and–

"Robert, I see you're an early bird too, son." George claps him on the shoulder from behind, and Steve almost jumps from his seat.

He has to blink the images of a naked Bucky out of his eyes, clearing his throat and recomposing himself quickly. "I think I slept enough, Mr. Barnes, didn't I?" He chuckles awkwardly.

George is taking a liking in him, Steve thinks, seeing how he returns his grin in an admiring way. That's good, he gained their trust and respect, but Steve needs to go.

He has to be somewhere else, not here, not where he wants to be, tangled in the sheets with Bucky.

"So um..." He stands up from his seat, gaining the attention of three pairs of eyes on him. "I really appreciate your hospitality and what you've done for me, and I'll never stop thanking you but... it's time for me to go."

There's a deafening silence after his speech, the three Barnes looking at him with a confused frown.

God no, please don't let this be any harder.

"Son, you can stay here how long you need..."

"Please stay with us, we really like your company." Winnifred comes up to him and takes his hands in hers, "You're still healing you can't go on the road–"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Barnes, I feel like new." He smiles an extra smile to convince her. "You've done enough for me, I can't stay here any–"

"Nu-uh, I don't wanna hear it." Winnifred pulls back and walks towards the sink again. "You're not going anywhere till you feel better, and find some place to stay."

"But..."

"No buts." She shushes him, all the while Bucky and George stand to the side with an amused look.

It's clear who commands in this house, Steve thinks.

"I can't let you go out there without a place to stay and..." She sighs and walks up to him again, "Please accept our hospitality, you're very welcome here and we love your presence."

Okay, that's oddly suspicious, these people trust him more than they should.

But Steve is a good man, a heart of gold laying behind those muscles and bones, and he can't just say no to a kind lady like Winnifred is.

"Well I..." His eyes flick towards Bucky, only to find him smirking at him, amusedly but softly. And fuck, if Winnifred isn't convincing, then Bucky's smile sure as hell is.

"Alright..." He smiles bashfully, "I'll stay."

❉ ❉ ❉

Bucky loves his mom, he really does, with all his heart, but sometimes he thinks that she just wants to mess with him and make his life more complicated and difficult than it already is.

He can't even contradict her, especially not in front of a guest like the one they have today. God no, a man of that caliber, he can't embarrass them in front of him.

Instead, he'll just try, and fail, not to embarrass himself.

" _ Show him the horses," _ Winnifred said,  _ "It will be fun." _ She said.

_ Yeah, fun my ass _ , Bucky thinks as he leads Robert towards the stable.

Robert who is sex on legs.

Robert who is Captain America in flesh and blood.

Or so he thinks. Bucky and his parents had a small discussion earlier that morning,  _ "James it really is him, you'll see! I think it's him!" _ His mother said.

He didn't believe them at first. Come on, who are they to have the privilege to see Captain America in person, let alone have him as a guest? But as soon as the man entered the room, Bucky nearly spat his coffee all over the place.

And now he's here, trying his best to seem nonchalant as they walk together. Trying his best not to jump him and jam his tongue down his throat.

"Wow..." Robert breaks the tense silence in the air as they round the stable, coming face to face with the vaste arrangement of paddocks and pens that he and his dad worked hard on for years.

A couple of horses are out in one of them, peacefully grazing the fresh grass on the morning sun.

"So... this is what you do?"

Bucky chuckles as he picks up a bucket full of small apples from the ground. "Well yeah... kinda," He says, "This is what I'm doing  _ now _ ." He finishes with a soft smile as he gazes at the horses. "Me and dad are working on restarting what he used to do a lot of time ago."

"What was it?" Robert asks with a curious twinkle in his eyes, and Bucky feels a flutter in his stomach when their gazes meet, heart beginning to race in his chest.

"Hippotherapy." He chuckles at the other's confused expression. "It's therapy done with horses, basically. Ya know... people with anxiety issues, autism and stuff, PTSD. This kind of therapy helps a lot."

Robert stares at him with amazement. "Wow that's... really beautiful."

"Yeah..." Bucky tries not to blush as they walk inside the stable, "So I work on this, and get these little buddies ready." He says as he scratches the nose of one of the horses.

He usually coos when he interacts with them, but he can't do that now. It would be beyond embarrassing, sweet-talking in front of a man like the one standing by his side.

"This is Crystal." He speaks while caressing the horse's white fur. "He's my best guy."

Robert beams at the animal, and reaches up to pet him, fearlessly and gently. "Hi, Crystal."

He's adorable, he's not even scared of horses, of these actual big, sweet softies, and that's  _ hot _ . Bucky can't stop watching him and wonder if his beard is as soft as it looks. 

Bucky clears his throat and looks away to the side, his mind instantly filled with lustful thoughts about this specimen, this packed superhero standing next to him.

A superhero that can lift buses like they're just toys, is now petting his horse and beaming like a ray of sunshine.

As Bucky watches Robert sweetly pet Crystal, he feels the question that has been nagging his mind all day long creep at the front of his thoughts, so he's not actually surprised when it leaves his mouth.

"You're him, aren't you?"

It's clear as the sun, it's peculiar, the way Robert's jaw tenses and his body freezes.

The smile on his face vanishes, but he still keeps petting Crystal, pretending that the question didn't completely crush him.

"Who?" His voice is deeper, on the defensive, but Bucky still goes on.

"Captain America." He shrugs nonchalantly.

For a second he fears that Robert might hit him, especially when he meets his gaze, sees the fear and anger burning in his eyes in a dangerous bundle of emotion.

"I'm not him anymore." Robert snarls with contempt upon hearing that name, and wow, it's unsettling, the way his whole behaviour can change from chill and soft to this in a matter of just a second.

"S-Sorry yeah um..." Bucky stutters, "I meant– Look, I won't tell anyone or call the police or something–"

"You'd better not." The other warns with a deep voice, and Bucky shivers all over for a second. He shouldn't be turned on by Captain America being... Captain America. God he shouldn't be so hot and bothered like this.

"It's alright I-I... just don't– don't break something or run away." He chuckles nervously, intimidated by the taller man, raising his hands up in defence. "I won't tell anyone."

Robert– or actually Steve– visibly relaxes, his sharp features softening and moulding back into the gentle ones Bucky definitely prefers.

"You won't tell anyone?"

"Of course  _ we _ won't tell anyone." He says, just to imply that his parents know too, "If that's what you want..."

Steve exhales, looks at his shoes with a twist on his brow. "You know, half the world governments kind of want me." He lets out a humourless chuckle.

Oh right, that's the problem. 

"Did you seriously think we would hand you over to them?" Bucky laughs as he turns around. "Ya know, people trust you more than those dipshits at the government... some of us see you as a God."

_ Like maybe I do _ , he thinks as they head over to the lobby with all the work equipment.

He bends down to pick up some fallen ropes and place them back on their respective hooks.

There's silence from behind him, and for a moment he thinks that Steve might have actually run away, if it weren't for the sound of his footsteps following him.

"How should I call you then?" He says over his shoulder, "Rogers? Or Steve?"

Again, no response, and Bucky turns to look over his shoulder to check what's–

"Are you checking me out?"

Oh God, oh  _ yes _ .

Steve's instant blush tells him that, yes, he was very much checking his ass out while he was bent over. Bucky feels a rush of boldness take over him, a cocky smirk dangling from his lips as he watches Captain America blush and stutter like a little girl.

He spins back around and slowly walks towards him, and just to be a little shit, he sways his hips that tad more to attract Steve's eyes to them.

He doesn't miss the visible bulge in Steve's pants that he's in vain trying to cover. Of course he doesn't miss it, and he instantly throws his rationality out of the window, biting his lip and striding towards him.

There's so much tension between them it almost hurts; Bucky feels the air getting hotter with each second passing, but he's good at this, oh he's so good at doing this. He doesn't let insecurity take over him, doesn't budge as he approaches the flustered man before him.

"S-Sorry I–" Steve gulps down a huge lump filled with embarrassment, eyes wide and face a deep red, "God, I'm so sorry–"

A dark chuckle leaves Bucky's mouth as he backs Steve up against the nearest wall, relishing in the surprised and terrified look on the other man's face.

"Didn't think of you swinging this way too, Rogers." He purrs against the other's neck, and Steve may be reluctant and pretend not to want this, but his body betrays him so stupidly, it responds so beautifully, shivers rising on his skin and breath getting heavy as Bucky presses against him.

"Th-This way?" Steve stutters with an adorable crack in his voice.

Bucky pulls back enough to lock eyes with him, not bothering to hide the fact that he's so hungry for this, but he becomes quickly aware that Steve's hard breathing is also partly caused by utter, blue fear.

_ Of course he's scared, Bucky, what the fuck are you doing? _

He smiles softly and presses a hand to Steve's chest– God, what a chest– with a reassuring touch. "I'm not gonna judge you." He smirks, "Actually... I'm really glad you are... Captain."

This time he apparently doesn't mind being called that, Bucky thinks, especially judging by the way Steve's eyes visibly darken. The sharp intake of breath he attempts is cut short when Bucky's lips meet his in a hot, needy rush.

It takes a moment, but after a few seconds Steve seems to finally take control over his mind again, and Bucky melts when he feels a strong pair of arms snake around his waist, pulling him closer. Their kiss is everything but sweet and innocent, tongues battling for dominance and hands roaming over every inch of body.

Steve's erection has been obvious since that fatal moment Bucky turned to face him, and he gets reminded more and more of its pushy presence against his own as their hips rub on each other in a shameless grind.

He doesn't know how reliable his crotch is in measurements, but God, Steve's cock feels huge through his pants. He wants it, he wants to see if the serum did something to Steve's dick back then as well, and he's positively optimistic that he won't be disappointed.

"Mhm, Captain... you're so hard." He whispers into Steve's ear, teasing and tempting like only he can do, and Steve groans, moving his lips and tongue and teeth over Bucky's neck, leaving little love bites on his hot skin.

Bucky moans, his grip on Steve's shirt releasing and his hand moving down to his pants, palming the other's cock through the fabric. "This all for me?" 

The sound Steve lets out is sinfully wonderful, and Bucky decides he wants more of those, and in a second, he's on his knees before the supersoldier, fumbling with his belt and buttons and zipper with a ridiculous urge.

"Holy shit." Bucky swears he's never seen such a big yet beautifully sculpted cock in his life, and he makes a note to take a good mental picture of it, because if this is the last time he sees it– which he really hopes is not– he wants to remember it for the rest of his lifelong masturbation sessions.

He takes it in his hand first, pressing his tongue on the underside and slowly licking towards the wet tip, all the while peering up at Steve through his eyelashes with a look so sinfully sexy he finally coaxes a sound out of Steve, an incoherent mumble leaving his mouth.

"Oh fuck..." He says as Bucky starts lapping at his pre-come. Hands come to his soft, short hair, settling on the back of his head with a gesture that's so easily full of control and dominance, it makes Bucky shudder all over.

He wraps his lips around the head of Steve's member and slowly starts to take the length in, lick after lick, he works his mouth around it with a fervor he never had before.

It tastes so good, it feels so good to have a warm, flesh cock inside his mouth again. He loves every bit of it, loves the way it fills him and stretches his lips, loves when it reaches the back of his throat and hits that gag reflex, making him moan and hum around Steve's cock.

"Oh God." Steve throws his head back when Bucky starts sucking, hollowing his cheeks before he's diving back down, working his tongue and throat around his dick. "Oh, Jesus, you're good."

"Not Jesus." Bucky muses, before he dives back in and brings his hands to it too, one stroking what can't fit into his mouth, while the other fondles Steve's swollen balls, squeezing and stroking till Steve can't contain his sounds anymore.

The crazy rush of his heartbeat is banging in his ears, his mouth, his pants, and he wants to make Steve feel so good, make him go wild. He wants him to feel the same way he does.

Steve's moaning and grunting, peering down at Bucky through hooded eyes with a look that sends a shiver down his spine. Something warm and tingly stirs inside him, and he can't stop a whimper from escaping his throat with the feeling of being on his knees before this man.

He's getting desperate, thirsty and hungry as a flame wakes inside him, aching in places he can't touch. It's a scary thought, so he dives in for more, bobbing his head faster and faster, sucking desperately on those juices like a dying man.

Eyes closed, he barely registers Steve pulling at his hair and yanking his head back. He whines, tilting his head further to try to get it back into his mouth, but Steve's grip doesn't budge.

"Slow down." He commands with dominance, and Bucky's hips thrust up into nothing.

He's never been dominated during sex before, but God, does he like it now. He loves it. Steve's towering figure over him is oozing power and control, it renders him ridiculously needy and desperate, discovering a side of himself he didn't know he had.

Steve brings Bucky's face back onto his cock, but this time he's not gentle about it. He moves the brunet's head in time with his thrusts, making Bucky almost choke on it. He coughs and gags as Steve's dick repeatedly hits the back of his throat and slides in and out, obscene gurgling sounds filling the air and mixing with Steve's contained groans.

Bucky's huffing little gasps through his nose in an attempt to breathe, but fuck, he loves this. He loves being used relentlessly like this, loves the thrill of being helpless in this man's hands, the thought of what else Steve can do to him– fuck, he wants,  _ wants, wants _ .

He starts palming his neglected erection through his tight breeches while Steve continues to fuck his face, and Bucky curses the damn tears for blurring his vision, because the sight of Captain America falling apart and losing his control because of him might be one of the most glorious things to ever see.

Steve comes suddenly, without warning stopping all his movements and spilling copiously down the brunet's throat, holding his face flush to his pelvis as he rides out his orgasm.

Bucky's eyes roll in the back of his skull at the sensation of come filling his mouth, and he swallows it hungrily and messily, nearly passing out from lack of breath.

Just then, Steve lifts his head and releases his grip, air finally filling Bucky's lungs. He rests his cheek against the blond's thigh, panting and gasping out hot little huffs. His face is probably smeared with drool and come and tears, but he's past caring.

He just sucked Captain America's cock, and fuck, it felt amazing. Maybe a little too much.

The sound of Steve putting his dick back in his pants and zipping his trousers doesn't make him feel better about all of this. He wants more, he  _ needs _ Steve to give him more. He wants to beg, to plead but... how?

He only realises he's still humping air when Steve slips his foot between his legs, and fuck yes, this isn't over.

He moans lowly, revealing his croaky and wrecked voice from the abuse. Bucky's grey eyes find Steve's blue ones, find him looking at him with a dark smirk on his face, watching him hump his shin like a yappy dog in heat, moaning and huffing desperate little sounds, his hands wrapping around Steve's legs for support.

"Steve... Captain please." And it's like a switch goes off in Steve's mind.

He yanks Bucky up to his feet and turns him around, slamming him on the wall behind and pinning his arms above his head.

It's all too fast for Bucky to even make a sound, but then Steve slips a strong thigh between his legs, and he can't help but moan, loud and wanton in his throat, squirming under the super soldier's hold.

"God, look at you." Steve's beard stings something wonderful as he nips at the brunet's neck, and Bucky nearly loses his mind, "You're so desperate for this. You wanna come, Bucky? Hm?"

"Fuck." His hips move on their own accord and press down against Steve's leg, a hot spark of pleasure zinging up his spine at the contact.

He can feel Steve's lips curve into a smirk against his neck. "Of course you do." He husks, "Come, Bucky. Ride my thigh and get off like this."

Oh.  _ Oh God _ .

He wants to feel embarrassed, but nothing really matters as much when everything feels this good, and he chases his pleasure with mind and body. It's a little uncomfortable at first, but after a few seconds he manages to get the right angle, and then he's moaning, gasping and cursing as Steve ravishes him.

There's so much going at the same time, so many sensations he doesn't know which one to grasp onto. The fire between his legs as he grinds on just the right spots or the shivers over his skin where Steve leaves kisses and bites; the hot trails left behind Steve's touch or the dizziness caused by his dirty, tempting words.

His eyes lose their focus on the opposite wall he's staring at, until he's a whimpering mess, riding Steve's leg like a little slut. He wants Steve to say it, wants him to call him that, degrade him and do all kinds of things to him.

Just the thought makes Bucky fly over the edge, and then he's coming, gasping and moaning  _ "Captain,"  _ and  _ "Steve, _ " through his orgasm, as he rides a wave of pleasure so intense everything around him whites out and fades into a blissful fog for a few, wonderful moments.

Steve gently helps him through it, murmuring sweet praises in his ear and stroking him through the aftershocks, milking his cock through ruined pants.

Bucky's distantly aware of Steve releasing his arms and bringing them back down, rubbing gently over the reddened skin on his wrists.

He clings onto him, because, well, he's right  _ there _ and Bucky wants nothing more than to touch that body, to be close to him and feel good. Steve makes him feel so, so good it's scary, but he'll deal with that issue later.

Right now, he wants to savour the last moments like this, his face buried in Steve's neck and his arms wrapped around his broad torso, panting softly as he regains his breath.

Maybe it's the realisation that they're not alone on this farm, maybe it's just the way Steve decides to feel in that moment, but when he suddenly pulls away, detaching their limbs and taking a step back, Bucky feels a pang in his heart and all the bliss of the previous moments fade away into nothing.

Steve's expression is unreadable, a veil of shock blurring with sheer embarrassment on his face as he slowly backs away.

"I um..." His voice is raspy as he speaks, pointing his thumb over his shoulder towards the exit of the stable. "I'll just–"

Bucky stares at him for a few long seconds, not quite able to bring his brain back to thinking properly.

In the end he just nods with a small shake of his head. What else can he do? He gets it, he really thinks he does; what just happened between them is quite unspeakable, left them in awkwardness and embarrassment.

He gets it, even though something in his heart is screaming painfully at Steve to come back, to keep going, to give him more and make him feel good, make  _ love to him. _

Bucky jerks out of his headspace as those words echo through his mind.

Shit. 

He's falling. He can't be. It's impossible.

But there's something about Steve that pulls him in so fiercely, something that wakes a fire in his belly and makes his cheek flush, his little heart stuttering in his chest.

Steve is not there anymore when Bucky snaps out of his thoughts, and he can faintly hear the sound of the stable doors opening and closing.

Dammit. 

Here he is, back from one of the best orgasms of his life, creamed pants and racing heart, alone in a goddamn stable after something he can't quite describe yet.

An incident? An experience? A start of something wonderful or the ending of a short, beautiful dream?

He lets out a deep sigh and lets his body slide down to the ground, sitting against the wall and gazing dreamily at the ceiling.

One of the horses neighs, as if to laugh at him for the mess that he is, and Bucky chuckles, running his hands through his dark hair.

He  _ is _ a mess, a stupid stupid mess.

❉ ❉ ❉

Bucky doesn't see Steve for the rest of the day.

Apart from the long and boring trip to the nearest town to buy more concentrates for the horses, he spends the rest of the day on the farm, working and busying his mind with anything but Steve.

_ Steve.  _

The name keeps replaying in his head like a catchy tune, popping up whenever his brain takes a break between thoughts, and he finds himself shivering out of nowhere, the memory of Steve's hands and lips on him hitting him like whiplash.

It happens randomly, and suddenly Bucky drops something or trips onto his feet, groans and huffs when he can't stop his mind from sneaking into dangerous territory.

It's ridiculous, how much just one person can affect him and distract him from his work like this.

He's aware that Steve kept his distance all day long, but frankly, he did too. Just the idea of having to confront him, having to look at him for even a second, makes him want to disappear and stop existing.

He has no idea how to go on from this.

Maybe Steve even left after their morning incident. He can't know, because he's been hiding from any possible interaction all the time, even by having lunch at a small diner in town, just to avoid Steve's eyes on him. But now the sun is beginning to set, and he's painfully aware that he needs to go back home, step into his house and face his fears.

For a second he considers running away, before he remembers that his fears are definitely less scary than his mom chasing him around and forcing him to eat dinner.

A nervous, resigned sigh escapes his lips as he closes in the last horse, and then he's off, walking with fistfuls of courage towards the house.

He doesn't bother stopping by the dining room, instead going directly to his room–  _ the room _ that communicates directly with his sister's, aka the one where Steve sleeps now.

It's maddening, the fact that he's literally on the other side of the wall, right there, and all Bucky needs to do is cross the doorway and he'd be in Steve's arms again.

Bucky steps into the shower and lets the hot water spray hit his tense skin, instantly melting the knotted muscles and washing away the tension. It does him some good in the end, and when he comes out, his mind is a bit clearer and he can finally breathe a full, limpid breath.

It doesn't last long, it can't.

As he nears the dining room filled with chatter, he anxiously adjusts the collar of his shirt once more, just that tiny bit to make sure the hickeys on his neck are kept well hidden. Those hickeys that will remind him of the morning events for a few days.

"Hi, mom. Dad." He says as he rounds the table and takes his usual spot.

He doesn't look at Steve. Steve doesn't look at him.

"Hi, James." Winnifred chirps around a bite of bread, "Haven't seen a lot from you today, mister."

"Mhm, was busy." He quickly shoots back, his eyes glued to his food all the time.

"You didn't come to lunch." There's only a ghost of bitterness in her tone, but Bucky takes it. He's used to it. His mom always had it on her heart to be all together during meals.

"I went to Marion and had lunch there."

"Could've taken Steve to see the town, too." She remarks, and Bucky suddenly feels like a twelve year old again, being scolded for not wanting to play with annoying cousin Jim.

Only this time, he really wants to play with Steve, but his mom doesn't have to know what game it would be.

Bucky sighs and sets his spoon aside, his knee bouncing nervously under the table. "I had to go last minute, mom, I'm sorry."

"Alright fine, fine!" Winnifred laughs lightly, and suddenly it feels like a thousand pounds weight has been lifted from the air. "Don't be so prickly."

A small, breathy chuckle reaches Bucky's ears, and only when he finally looks up from his plate, he realises that it came from Steve.

The blond catches his eyes, a sly, subtle smirk tugging at his lips, and then he winks, he  _ actually fucking winks at him _ , and Bucky feels his legs dissolve into the air, feels all the blood rush to his face.

The brunet shivers under his gaze and quickly looks back down, busying his spoon with the soup in his plate.

Throughout the dinner, there's casual, absentminded chatter between the four of them, and at some point Bucky wonders when his parents started calling Steve  _ 'Steve' _ . He's missed some things today, he thinks, but in the end, it's better this way.

He can't focus on much except the knowing, lingering looks that Steve gives him, and it's driving him crazy, something inside his belly jumping and fluttering with deep desire. Bucky ends up leaving half his dinner uneaten, muttering a quick  _ "I'm not hungry" _ and wishing everyone goodnight, before he storms upstairs towards his room.

Sleep doesn't seem to agree with him during the night. His mind is just so crowded, his body restless in his large bed that he feels too big for only one person. He craves for that empty space to be filled by someone, by that  _ someone _ who's just on the other side of the wall.

Every time he shuts his eyes and tries to chase a sliver of sleep, his mind decides to have it the other way, and he finds himself thinking about Steve and only Steve, about the sweetness of his kisses, about the safety of his strong embrace, the shivers his voice sends down his spine, the delicious scratch of his beard against his skin, and how it would feel between his legs.

Bucky's hand inevitably finds its way inside his pants, and he jerks off to the crazy fantasies in his mind, biting the pillow to keep his noises as quiet as possible, but he slips so easily. He slips and lets Steve's name fall from his lips.

He imagines Steve pinning him to the bed, his muscular body caging his smaller one. He imagines the blond sucking him off, rimming him, fucking him– God, everything.

A hand on his dick is soon not enough, and he wants more, he wants  _ Steve _ .

Bucky shifts and writhes on the sheets as he brings his lubed fingers to his hole, and he imagines them as if they were Steve's, prepping him and opening him up for more.

It's driving him crazy, the stimulation he brings to his body enhancing the dirty fantasies his mind forges, and before he knows it, he's a sweaty, heaving mess on his mattress, coming in his hand and on his own fingers, satiating that fire that burns deep inside until it wakes again, stronger than before.

❉ ❉ ❉

The sweet smell of coffee fills Steve's nostrils as he makes his way down the stairs the next morning.

There's a thought nagging at the back of his mind, the awareness that it's been three days since he bumped into this little family.

He doesn't want to be a burden, he knows he should leave today. Winnifred can talk about hospitality all she wants, but Steve knows part of the reason they want him to stay is because he is, or actually was, Captain America, but enough is enough. It's time for him to pack his stuff and keep going his way.

The only problem is… Steve doesn't want to. What keeps him on this ranch is much stronger and fiercer than what actually pulls him away, and as much as his rationality tells him to go, his heart aches something fierce and screams to stay, just a little bit longer, just to look at Bucky a little bit more.

There's not the usual chatter coming from the kitchen, which is odd, Steve thinks. Usually Winnifred is always talking to someone or humming a tune if she happens to be alone.

Steve feels his heart skip a beat in his chest when he stops at the doorway.

There's Bucky,  _ only _ Bucky, in the room. His back is turned towards Steve, shoulders tense and squared as he dries the dishes with a rag, nervously putting them away with jerky movements.

It's creepy, probably, but Steve takes a few moments to stare at him anyway, a smirk hanging from his lips as he lets his eyes take in the brunet's athletic form, the casual clothes he's wearing today, a white flannel and blue jeans, his hair messy and unruly. Steve doesn't feel an ounce of shame when his gaze stops at Bucky's ass for a bit longer, and fuck, he wants to tear those jeans apart, rip them and expose what hides beneath, and then touch it, taste it, fuck it.

Bucky doesn't notice his presence for a minute or so, too caught up in his nervy mind, so when Steve finally speaks, he nearly drops a plate on his feet.

"Good morning, doll." Steve smirks at the visible flush that spreads over the back of Bucky's neck.

Bucky doesn't turn around, just huffs and grumbles a tight. "Mornin'," Before picking up a glass and drying that one too.

"Where're your parents?" Steve questions as he steps inside, nearing the table and coming to a stop next to it.

There's breakfast for one on the tabletop, a coffee mug and pancakes, but Steve doesn't touch. It's probably Bucky's.

"They went to Chicago." Bucky mutters, shifting on his feet and scratching the tip of his read ear.

"Chicago?"

Bucky hums in affirmation. "They went to visit my sister..." He trails off.

"And you didn't go?"

Bucky emits a dry chuckle. "Someone has to stay here with the horses." He says matter-of-factly.

"Oh... right." Steve lets a wicked grin creep over his face. Bucky's parents are away, which means he's alone with Bucky on the ranch, which means he can... "How long are they staying?"

His enhanced hearing detects a slight shake in Bucky's intake of breath. He clears his throat and shifts on his feet, shoulders tensing and hands trembling ever so slightly.

Bucky's nervous and embarrassed, and Steve knows exactly why.

"Um... till Sunday." He mumbles in the end, and isn't that just funny? Destiny is playing its cards in Steve's favour, he's not gonna miss this opportunity now.

He moves closer, but doesn't reach Bucky just yet, keeping a slight but significant distance from the brunet.

"So it's just me and you now?"

Bucky's plate falls from his hands, landing in the sink with a sharp clink. Steve sees a beautiful crowd of goosebumps raise on his neck, and he grins, eyes wide and hungry as he waits for the right moment to catch his prey.

"Y-Yeah." A whisper leaves Bucky's lips, his throat clicks audibly as he swallows.

And Steve… Steve decides he's held back long enough. He's not gonna miss this chance, to have himself and Bucky alone in the middle of the countryside and finally make his fantasies come true.

Steve knows Bucky wants this too, he heard everything last night, and so he steps towards the brunet with only one purpose in his mind, closing the distance between.

There's a thrillful instant when Steve presses himself against Bucky, standing behind him and caging the brunet's smaller body with his own.

A dark, hungry smirk forms on his face at Bucky's desperate, futile attempt to stifle a whimper.

He braces his arms against the edge of the counter, traces the back of Bucky's neck with his lips, presses his crotch to his perfect ass. Bucky's sweet scent sends his head spinning in hot desire, and he feels himself getting harder by the second.

"Well that's good, Bucky." His hands move to the other's hips, possessively but gently gripping at Bucky's waist, "Isn't it, doll?"

Bucky's panting by now, inadvertently pressing back against Steve's crotch, enticing a low groan from the blond. He moans so sweetly when Steve sucks on a spot just below his ear, a tremble shaking his hot body.

"Steve..."

A husky chuckle rumbles out of Steve's chest, his rough hands sliding past Bucky's waist and roaming over his beautiful thighs, teasing the space just between them, and he feels the brunet's legs shake and quiver under his touch.

"That's not what you called me last night, baby."

Bucky gasps, eyes wide and cheeks a deep red from embarrassment. His trembling hands settle on top of Steve's and give a weak, desperate squeeze.

"What did you call me last night, hm?" Steve insists, nipping at the brunet's neck and whispering in his ear. "I wanna hear it, doll. You sounded so good, so sweet calling my name, baby..."

He's deliberately grinding his hips into Bucky's ass with sinuous movements, making the other keen and whimper desperate little sounds.

"C-Captain..."

"Fuck yes, baby." Steve groans at the beautiful way his name falls from Bucky's red lips. "You sound so pretty. Gonna make all those sounds for me again?"

Bucky's nodding, his head falling backwards onto Steve's shoulder. Eyes closed and lips parted, he's huffing little moans at every roll of Steve's hips and every word he says.

Steve's never seen something so beautiful.

"Yes, Captain."

Steve keeps teasing him with his hands, just slightly brushing over his erection and rubbing intensively the inside of his thighs. "Yeah?"

There's a moment where Bucky takes the time to regain his breath, before he opens his blue eyes and pierces them right into Steve's, all the want and desire unhidden in them as he pleads for something.

And then, just above a whisper, his voice comes out sinful and desperate, shaky and breathy as he speaks two fatal words.

_ "Fuck me." _

And who is Steve to deny Bucky such pleasure?

**Author's Note:**

> I planned a second part to this, but then I gave up, so it's 90% not happening, but who knows


End file.
